"Well, Geordi, we told you to eat; you will need your energy," teased
Clagara.

"By the way, this is Targala; she wasn't with us earlier."

"Hello, Targala," said Geordi. He was already struggling with an erection.
He was terrified that he would come before anything happened, like a damn
virgin leafing through an ancient girlie magazine.

"Don't worry too much, Geordi," said Targala, smiling.

"We have hit upon a solution. You will not need that much energy after all.
We've been experimenting with the holo-deck, and we have a very special
night planned for you."

"I'm counting on that," Geordi declared, trying to put bravado in his voice.
He wasn't sure he had succeeded.

"A question, Geordi," said Targala. "May we remove your visor?"

"Yes; I'm completely comfortable in the dark in familiar surroundings. But I
must tell you that it is an ancient stereotype which ascribes extrasensory
compensations to blind people; the belief that such powers are inherent in
those who are blind is false. At least for humans. While some blind people
may find it worthwhile to develop extra-sensitive touch or hearing, it is not
a given."

"That isn't our thinking at all," Clagara chuckled. "We just want you to be
surprised."

"Well, hit me with those surprises."

* * *

Picard felt Ztlaf beside him, though she was invisible. He felt confident
that he could handle this alone; he had been in worse, much more delicate
situations, but he enjoyed her desire to protect him. It amused him a bit,
and reminded him that there were circumstances which might require her
advice or some minor manipulations.

"Ambassador, I have a ship which requires minor servicing, new civilians to
welcome, and a little vacation to tend to. I do not wish to rush you, but I
would appreciate it if we could dispense with the usual formalities and
pleasantries and get to the heart of the matter."

Picard was a little surprised himself at this breach of diplomacy, but
decided he simply was getting tired of such pretenses.

"Oh, certainly, Captain Picard, certainly. Well, the heart of the matter,
then. Where are the insolent creatures?"

"Ambassador, while I recognize your societal norms are not mine, you are
aboard my ship, and while that is so, I respectfully request that you discuss
other beings, whether male or female, Ferengi or not, with a reasonable
amount of respect."

"Captain, you seem determined to make this difficult. We are dealing with
the murders of two beloved --"

"They are beloved now, are they? They were renegades only several hours ago."

"Nevertheless, Captain, those men had families and children, village
communities to support."

"I never realized the Ferengi were such altruists and providers for the
common good, Ambassador."

"Well, you don't know much about us, Captain; that is clear."

"Well, Ambassador, one thing I do know is that any attempts to hold the Prime
Directive over Starfleet's head will be wasted. The Prime Directive, as you
know, has been interpreted as applicable to situations where we encounter a
culture or species far inferior to our own, and dictates that we do not
intervene or act in any way that would change their progress significantly.
We both know, however, that the Ferengi are a highly developed, civilized,
technologically sophisticated society. Surely, you would not want to declare
to the United Federation of Planets or to any of its enemies that you are a
primitive, wayward species."

"Certainly not, Captain. That would be most improper."

"Indeed. Ambassador, the Ferengi woman Galoc has accepted full blame for the
killings. I have made Starfleet aware of this, and she will be placed in a
grueling rehabilitation program. The others are requesting asylum. We intend
to grant that request."

"Captain, it would be splendid if things could be so easily solved. But,
Captain, this will send a mixed message to our people. We must punish those
who commit crimes against us, especially when misdeeds are perpetrated by
our own."

"I fully sympathize, Ambassador. But as it is, this little occurrence has
gotten quite a bit of publicity, and I believe a worse message would be sent
if you acted in any way to right this wrong at this time. Spirits are running
high; all eyes are on you. To wait is unfair to all. No, I think Starfleet's
intervention here is best for all."

"Ambassador," said Ztlaf in her new form, "I must insist that you take this
token of our esteem. Now, it is for no one except you."

Ztlaf presented the ambassador with a heavy bundle of shiny bars.

"For you, and only for you, Ambassador," she cooed, as her paper-thin gown
slipped, revealing large-nippled breasts. She leaned toward the ambassador
and flicked her tongue across his left earlobe. He flushed, and reflexively
reached for her breast.

"My goodness, Captain. This certainly -- changes things. Such an honor, to
be presented with such a --"

"Remove your hands from her, Ambassador. Your gift has been bestowed. Now do
not get greedy, or we will reduce the amount."

Ztlaf had disappeared. Ambassador Slaag stared at his hand, still in the act
of grasping -- nothing.

"Where did she go?"

"She has gone, Ambassador. Is the exchange satisfactory? Do you think you
will be able to convince your superiors?"

"Oh, certainly, certainly. We are highly reasonable, fair-minded souls, we
Ferengi. We must be, or our legendary business prowess would not have stuck
with us all these years."

"Good. It was a pleasure, Ambassador."

"Ztlaf? What do you think you are *doing*?"

"Jean-Luc, you know as well as I do that a matter this fragile required a
personal bribe to rid us of the ambassador."

"Ztlaf, you cannot involve yourself in these matters. What would have
happened were you not here?"

Geordi lay in a hammock of sorts; that is what it felt like. He heard the
five Ferengi women bustling about him. He heard them remove their clothing,
and tried to make out their whispered conversation. But they were talking in
their own language, and it was no use.

"We're ready for you, Geordi. We hope you're ready for us."

Geordi was not certain which of them had spoken; he had not had enough time
to get acquainted with their voices. He hadn't expected to be in a position
not to know which was speaking.

"Geordi, whatever you feel, do not be frightened. We promise, we will not
hurt you, and if anything becomes uncomfortable, you will let us know, won't
you?"

"Uh, sure, I would think so."

"Good. We've only done this to each other, for the pleasure of our husbands.
But we decided it was time to see its effects on a willing recipient."

"I can tell you to stop any time, right?" Geordi asked nervously.

"Yes, Geordi. And if for any reason, whatever it might be," the speaker
giggled, "that you find yourself unable to speak, nod your head twice,
rapidly."

Geordi's heart began to thump. His erection wilted. What were they going to
do to him? He wished he had told someone where he would be.

* * *

Picard was angry with Ztlaf.

"Ztlaf, you seem to have very little faith in me. You are taking control
of matters that I am able and willing to attend to. I do not like your
intrusions when they are not requested, unnecessary, and frankly --"

"How dare you compare me with him!" Ztlaf said angrily, appearing before
Picard as a medium-sized tigress. Her ears lay back against her head; her
tail swished angrily from side to side.

"If the comparison fits," Picard snapped, "live with it! You are beginning
to behave like your interloping, arrogant, trouble-making father! And while
we're on that disconcerting topic, I don't like the way you use my thoughts
against me!"

"Oh, you don't, Jean-luc? Why is that? Do you prefer the cloak of your even
temper, that carefully controlled, reserved exterior? That dishonest mask?"

"How dare you! You are just like him. You can't even face me as an equal.
When you disagree, or when you feel you should decide how things should turn
out, you lord your Q abilities over me. Come on, Ztlaf! Are you a coward like
him? Afraid of the battleground of equality?"

The tigress hissed and disappeared. Picard suddenly faced himself.

"Now we're equals," Ztlaf/Picard said. "no tricks, no extra powers or
strength. What's the matter, Picard? You don't want to fight yourself? Afraid
of what you might learn? Remember what our brother told us the last time we
went home? Yes, we, Jean-Luc. I'm the part of you that you hide, that you
are continually trying to control. I'm your sexuality, your anger, your
frustration and your fear. I'm your insecurity and your superiority complex;
yes, all of your extremes, Picard. Come on. Let's see what your calm,
rational, unfeeling facade can do against me? You will find that we can't
live without one another, Jean-Luc. You will learn that the reason you and Q
are constantly at odds is because you have a love-hate relationship with him.
You each love the generous, principled part of the other, and hate the baser
side. Q flaunts the latter to protect himself from feeling 'sappy' emotions
like love and friendship. You force your best into everything you do and say,
ignoring feelings and more primitive aspects of your mind, even when they
could be of tremendous help to you. You complement each other. Spiritually,
you are one."

"No!"

Picard lunged at his alter ego, his fist slamming his double right between
the eyes. No sooner had he released the punch than he was on the floor, his
lip bleeding, his head swimming with pain. He saw himself coming at him and
kicked out. The impact sent Ztlaf/Picard scuttling a few feet.

"It's a simple matter of a love-hate relationship, Picard," his own voice
proclaimed. "You and Q love and hate the same things about one another. You
are each trying to cleanse yourselves of your baser sides, in different ways.
But each of you is scared in the same way. You're afraid of being vulnerable,
each in his own way. Instead of learning to accept one another as the other
side of the same spiritual coin, you look for wholeness while throwing half
of yourselves away, at the expense of yourselves, and the expense of the
other, and at the expense of humanity."

"Shut up! You shut up. You've been playing games with me all along. You're Q,
aren't you? There is no such thing as Ztlaf. You BASTARD!"

Picard leaped upon his double; they wrestled together for endless minutes,
kicking, punching, cursing. Suddenly, Picard saw that he was grappling with
Q. At least, Q did not appear to be any more powerful than Picard himself.
Their struggle grew loud and prolonged; neither could get the upper hand.
Picard felt a familiar presence, and glanced about. Ztlaf stood in the
corner, smiling. He really was wrestling with Q then.

"You let me go, Picard! Amanda, Ztlaf! Whichever of you is responsible for
this is going to pay dearly."

Picard had his arm around Q's neck.

"Let me go, you depraved, savage, human maggot!"

Picard was awestruck at the sudden realization that he and Q were naked.
They grappled; Picard knew that one of them had to win; one had to conquer
for any progress to be made toward an end to this madness. Ass soon as
this realization crossed his mind, Picard felt Q's body beneath him cease
struggling. As Q sought to break free, Picard lunged inside him. In his
mind's eye, Picard imagined a sturdy, stubborn thoroughbred he had broken
in as a youth new to horseback riding. He slammed Q to the floor, as each
of them laughed and cried at the same time. Picard felt himself enveloped
in Q; they seemed to be circling one another in a tornado of motion. They
zoomed past one another, trying to grasp onto one another. They screamed
at one another, hurling insults and apologies. Picard found himself
watching it all from a place above. He saw the two Picards becoming one,
Q seemingly sandwiched between them. He heard Ztlaf's voice.

"Do you understand now why Q makes you so angry? He is your spiritual mentor.
At the same time, he is learning about himself. The Continuum required that
of him, but he didn't know it. He despises me because I am a reminder of what
he considers his base side, his non-Q side. He doesn't want to accept my
existence, because he is afraid of the emotional responsibility and more
'human' aspects of his being. He wants to love and protect, but he recognizes
that such feelings and desires make him vulnerable. So he responds with
anger. He treats you with anger and taunts you in order to teach you. He
knows you will not accept the things you must learn willingly. The two of you
are so alike; you just handle your fear of yourselves differently. In the
end, you are very much the same. And I love you both."

"What are you trying to do, Ztlaf? Is this some game you and your father --"

"Oh, stop it, Jean-Luc! This is no conspiracy against you, something cooked
up as some mean-spirited Q trick! It *is* the beginning of the end of your
conspiracy against your self. Your whole self."

"Don't you understand, Ztlaf? Feelings, raw emotion, anger, insecurity, even
braggadocio -- they have their place, but not in the life of a captain."

"They have their place, every one of them, in every aspect of your life,
Jean-Luc. You cannot strike a balance without playing the extremes against
one another. The good and the bad must find a common ground; they are not so
easily compartmentalized. For instance, Jean-Luc, did you ever once, during
our love-making, consider that you might want to fuck?"

"*WHAT*??? Why are you throwing that disgusting, demeaning word at me! It has
no place in what we've shared."

"Oh, doesn't it? You've spent all our time together proving to yourself what
a fine, gentlemanly, considerate lover you are! Thinking of me always, never
indulging in yourself. I can please myself whenever I want, Jean-Luc. Think
about that. I don't need your penis, your tongue, your hands!"

"Stop it! Why are you saying this? I gave up part of myself for you; my crew,
my friends. They've noticed the changes."

"Oh, knock it off, Jean-Luc. You haven't given up anything. Everything
I've been to you, you've wanted. All of it. Look at yourself, Jean-Luc.
Stop trying to play some role you think is proper for you to play. What
you believe is bad about you isn't always bad -- and your goodness, your
perceived high principles and gallantry, stuff it! It isn't always the
answer. I see what you're thinking right now, Jean-Luc. Come on; do it.
You'll like it. So will I. In fact, you've wanted to do it since the first
time we made love. Do it, Jean-Luc. Are you man enough? Are you human
enough and honest enough about it to do it, Jean-Luc?"

Picard grabbed her naked form and flung her unceremoniously to the floor.
He grasped her wrists with one hand and yanked her hands above her head.
She grinned at him, her eyes still daring him, insolent in their mockery.

"What is it that is holding you back, noble captain? You think you're above
such thoughts, such desires. Don't kid yourself --"

"Shut up!" he snarled, lunging on top of her. His erection slammed into her,
in and out, a furious attempt at conquest. The truth of all that had been
said, of all that had transpired egged him on. He was angry; he was upset;
he was ecstatic with the feeling of release. He could just be himself -- no
rules, no self-sanctions. He plunged angrily inside her, his teeth closed
over her right nipple. She howled with ecstasy, her legs wrapping around
him. He released his hold and spun her over. His penis was on fire with need,
but he ignored it for the moment. He bound her hands and ankles; he had no
idea with what. He laughed at her attempts to get free, knowing full well
that she could if she wanted to be free. He looked directly into her eyes
when he had turned her over again.